


There Shall Be No Quarter

by apiphile



Category: Sesame Street (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Destroying Childhoods, Mpreg, Other, muppetrape, wtf?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-09
Updated: 2010-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiphile/pseuds/apiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A captured shape-shifting alien turns nasty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Shall Be No Quarter

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you the_funmonkey for beta.

"Hey, Owen," Ianto said in a distracted but slightly horrified voice, his eyes fixed firmly to a replay of some CCTV footage on his monitor, "come … and look … at this."

"Rick-roll me again and I'll _piss_ in the coffee machine," Owen grumbled, getting up anyway. "It took me _days_ to get that song out of my head last time."

"Well, if you had anything else _in_ there to start with – " Ianto began under his breath, and stopped. " - _how_ are you going to piss in the coffee machine, exactly? I thought your bladder was, er. You know. Off line."

"You know how many urine samples there are in that fridge?" Owen threatened, coming to stand behind him. He tried to peer over Ianto's shoulder; this was not a raging success as Ianto was quite a bit taller than him.

"Forty-seven," Ianto said absently, "and one misplaced can of Diet Coke. Look at this." He clicked on **play** again.

Owen said, "You're meant to be reviewing CCTV footage, not fucking about on YouTube. If you're _that_ bored I can always kick your arse at Medical Scrabble again?"

"I know what it _looks_ like," Ianto said patiently, "but that's direct, unaltered footage from the bins at the back of Nando's on Caroline Street."

Owen stared until his eyeballs went dry. "That … looks like …"

"I know," Ianto said as something dark blue and bulbous-headed, skittering like a quadrupedal spider, sidled up to the bins and knocked off their tops one by one.

"Maybe he's looking for Oscar," Owen snorted, sounding more dreamy than derisive.

Ianto turned and stared at him with his eyebrows raised. "Okay, firstly, that's ridiculous. Secondly, I can't believe you actually remember their _names_."

Owen shrugged defensively. "There are reruns on the Teaching Channel at 3am every day." He gave Ianto an angry look. "And since I can't _sleep_ and porn isn't any bloody use anymore …"

"Alright," Ianto muttered, looking hastily away, "So. We should call Jack."

Owen glanced at the screen again. The blue thing was rummaging through the bins with spindly, spastic limbs. "He's not going to believe us, is he?"

* * *

 

Jack and Gwen were out on patrol.

Because it was Jack and Gwen's patrol and Gwen was some sort of magnet for trouble, the patron saint of abduction victims, they were hiding from and occasionally shooting at a Weevil that appeared to have – in Owen's delicate summary when the mission was set – 'gone a bit mental'.

Jack's comm link beeped and he answered with a fairly irritable, "What is it? Kinda busy here – " But then he listened, and stopped, and listened some more. "_What?_" He listened again. "Ianto … getting stoned during work hours is not okay." Jack listened again as Gwen ducked around the car-park column to let off another round at the maddened Weevil. "My guess is that it's some kind of shape shifter," he finished, "and you're going to have to go after it yourselves unless Gwen and I get the better of this nutso Weevil in the next ten minutes or so. Over and out."

Gwen flopped back beside him. "What was that about Ianto getting stoned? I've never even seen him drunk," she frowned. "That's not like him."

Jack shook his head, ready to fire again. "Not Ianto. Seems the universe is being strange again."

"Oh _well_," Gwen snorted, "what else is new?"

"Apparently there's a character from Sesame Street raiding the bins behind Nando's," Jack said, and he rolled out into the car park and sprang to his feet. The Weevil whimpered up at him from the tarmac, ichor spreading around it like a shadow. Jack sighed. "Good shot, Gwen. Get the body bag, Owen's going to want to – okay, he isn't going to _want_ to, but he's going to _have_ to do an autopsy on this."

"Alright," Gwen said, making for the SUV parked all of 200 yards away. "Which one?"

"Which one what?" Jack asked, putting another bullet into the Weevil's face from standing range. Gwen flinched.

"Which character from Sesame Street? I suppose it must be Oscar – " Gwen dragged the body bag out of the back of the SUV with an _oof_, "- with all those bins …"

"You'd think," Jack agreed, squatting by the Weevil's cooling body and eyeing the foam-flecked jaws with curiosity, "but according to Ianto it looks more like Grover."

* * *

 

With Tosh visiting her auntie in Okinawa, Torchwood were down to four – or three and one zombie, as Owen keep shouting at them _not_ to say – and all four of them arrived at the alley behind Nando's at the same time. Jack's first words were, "And _who_ is back at the Hub?" in a prissy, schoolteacherly tone that sounded oddly like he'd picked it up from Ianto.

"You didn't exactly tell us you were on the way," Ianto said crossly, "and we're not meant to be conducting solo reconnaissance at the moment."

Jack raised both his eyebrows, giving the impression of having thrown his hands up while keeping them firmly in his pockets. "Great. Fine. I have a team made up of people incapable of obeying orders or using common sense, and one zombie. Let's go hunt down that muppet." From behind his exasperation a flash of boyish amusement broke out in the form of a filthy grin. "Oh that sounds so much like a euphemism for something quite wrong." Jack drew his service revolver and snuck into the alley.

Gwen followed a moment later.

"Well, Mr. Stun Gun," Owen muttered, glancing at Ianto and waving his bandaged-together fingers, "are you going next or am I allowed a _real_ weapon again now?"

There was a yell from the alleyway, and both men spun to peer into the shadows. There was very little to be seen but movement, and – accompanying a _clang_ \- a bin falling over. A storm of giggles easily identifiable as Gwen's flitted up through the cold air, and Owen and Ianto frowned at each other.

"GWEN STOP LAUGHING AND GET IT OFF MY _FACE_," Jack's voice rose like a siren among the bins, echoed off the walls.

Ianto shrugged. "I … _think_ Jack has it under control now," he said smoothly.

"_Cold_. What'd he do this time, forget your birthday?" Owen said. He stared down the alleyway at nothing. "I want a – no, I want to _want_ a cigarette. Wanting _anything_ would be fucking brilliant."

"Shh," Ianto said, hands in pockets. "Here they come."

Looking for all the world like a children's TV presenter, Gwen walked serenely into the orange streetlight of winter evening with an excited-looking Grover peering about from her arms. Jack followed some paces behind, mopping crossly at several scratches on his face.

"This is _so weird_," Owen commented, looking at Gwen's arms as if he'd never seen them before. "You definitely have both your hands … where I can see them …"

" – coming from a dead man," Ianto said primly, and stopped. He peered at Jack and, apparently satisfied that his boss wasn't too badly injured (although what _on_ was anyone's guess, it wasn't as if Grover had teeth or claws), he added, "No, actually, you're right. This _is_ bloody weird."

"Perfectly logical explanation for it all," Jack said, dabbing at his mouth with his sleeve. "It's a shape-shifter that imprinted on Sesame Street as its first view of life on this planet. Not really that weird."

"Yeah, not to _you_," Owen protested, "You didn't grow up watching it." He eyeballed Jack's scratches and snickered. "I can't believe you just got mauled by _Grover_."

Jack threw him a filthy look. "Shut up, Owen, or do you wanna walk home?"

* * *

 

"Okay," Jack said, when they'd got the whining and pathetically small Grover-like alien into a holding cell, "before anything else can go down, Gwen, please – go home and get some sleep." He peered into the cell and frowned at the alien. "Not sure why it isn't talking yet, though. Maybe there wasn't sufficient time for imprinting, that sometimes effects the –" he coughed and looked back up at Owen and Ianto. "I have an idea."

When they'd dragged the TV down to the holding cells and set it up on a chair facing the cell's plastic wall, Jack waved one of his weirder-looking toys over it and looped an old broadcast of Sesame Street through the screen.

"I could do with one of those," Owen said, nodding at the device in Jack's hand. "There's fuck all on at 4am and I've watched all my DVDs."

"Use it too often," Jack cautioned, "and it gives you a wicked case of vitamin K deficiency." He adjusted the TV on the chair; the Grover-like alien took no noticed and went on rocking back and forth on its blue skinny bottom, mouth ajar to emit a troubling keening sound.

"Jack, I'm _dead_," Owen pointed out.

"Don't want to find out what a vitamin K deficiency does to an animated cor—" Jack broke off as his wristpiece beeped, and stared at it for a moment. "_Fuck_," he said, clear and distinct and annoyed.

Ianto and Owen both flashed him a scandalised look.

"_What_?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"You just swore in front of a _muppet_," Owen said, surprisingly censorious for someone with his levels of cynicism.

Jack stared at him. "Owen, I've heard you use the words 'cunting cunted cunt machine' in front of a toddler in a pushchair, don't give me that look." He tapped his wrist pointedly. "We have disturbance, a violent one, by the docks. Owen, you're with me, try not to shoot any civilians or _my leg_ this time, would you? Ianto, you're on, er, _muppetwatch_, I guess."

Before Ianto could object or even clarify Jack had bounded away. Owen rolled his eyes. "I don't know _what_ you see in him," he muttered.

"Well, the sex is – "

"I don't want to knoooooow…" Owen half-sang, clamping his hands over his ears, "I don't want to _know_. Have fun with Sesame Street, see if you can learn all the words to The Friendship Song in less than three repeats," and he left, calling, "it took me _four_," over his shoulder.

Ianto went back upstairs and made himself a coffee.

When he returned, the muppet – the alien that looked like a muppet, Ianto reminded himself – was urinating against the clear plastic dividing wall with an expression of open-mouthed glee and a blue furry penis that Ianto was certain hadn't been a feature on the TV version.

"Stop that," he said half-heartedly, sure it wouldn't understand him. "I'm fed up with cleaning up alien _piss_ from these things. And the pressure hose has decided it doesn't like pressure any more, too. Please, just stop."

To his surprise the muppet-alien stopped and turned its head on one side to regard him with ping-pong ball curiosity. It was deeply creepy, but not nearly so creepy as when, from the TV, Big Bird's voice rang out clear and sing-song, "Open the cell door, Ianto."

"… What?" Ianto said, staring not at the TV but at the dark blue split-mouth of the muppet-shaped alien. Its expression of course couldn't change, but its mouth lolled open as it nodded enthusiastically, spindly arms raised. "No!"

"Open the cell door, Ianto," sang Oscar the Grouch from the TV.

Ianto took a sip of his coffee. "I'm not taking orders from a muppet."

"Open the _door_, open the doooooor," sang the cast of Sesame Street. Ianto put his coffee down on top of the TV and rocked on his heels with his hands in his pockets and Grover the Alien peered plaintively up at him from the cell floor and flopped his jaw in time with the voices on the TV.

Ianto felt more than a little unnerved. He hit his comms link. "Jack – "

"Not now, kinda busy – " Jack said breathlessly. The link went dead.

Ianto considered calling Gwen, but she was probably asleep and unlike Jack he didn't consider it his place to drag her out of bed for anything less than the end of the world again. He _liked_ Rhys; it seemed only fair to let the man have his wife at home occasionally.

"I'm not letting you out," Ianto said hoarsely.

There was a beep in his ear and he hit the link in surprise. Jack's voice came through distorted. "Ianto, I need you to test the emergency evacuation protocols!"

"Wha-"

"Don't ask questions, just _do_ it – " Jack's breathless and tinny voice was once more cut off – the TV had at least resumed singing the marginally less creepy _Friendship Song_, which was something to be grateful for.

Ianto shrugged to himself and picked up his coffee again. He tapped his comm link and read out the appropriate codes straight from memory, and took another sip of coffee.

The cell door fell open.

"What? No," Ianto muttered, more surprised than alarmed as the _Friendship Song_ carried on pouring from the TV's speakers. The evacuation protocols were specifically designed _not_ to open the cell doors.

Alarm followed quickly enough, though, as a small skinny blue streak launched itself at his face like an angry cat.

It was heavier than he'd have guessed both from its size and from the way Gwen had cradled it, and no amount of tugging it away from him did anything but get him his hands scratched by angry and apparently sharper-than-they-appeared fingers.

Things took a turn for the even less pleasant as something nudged his lips.

Ianto clamped his jaw shut instinctively, but the muppet _bit_ him and there were hundreds of tiny sharp teeth concealed in that empty-looking mouth; he yelled in pain, and the next thing he knew a blue and hairy appendage shoved between his teeth.

Something smooth and wet and distinctly un-muppet-like – like a small tendril covered in slime – snaked out from the appendage and over his tongue, down into his throat, choking him, choking the air from him, and Ianto gurgled and tried to pry the muppet from his face all the more desperately.

He could _feel_ himself beginning to lose consciousness before he actually did, and the sensations of fun-fur on his skin and the echoing, jubilant strains of the _Friendship Song_ in his brain did little to soothe the panicky feeling that he was going to suffocate to death –

When Ianto came round the TV was smashed in pieces on the floor, the cell door was still open, he had scratches all over his face, and Jack was looking at him with an expression of concern.

He looked up. Owen was waving something over his head.

"What is that?"

"That, mate," Owen said, holding out the stick so that Ianto could see the results, "is a serious problem."

Ianto squinted at the little blue line and the writing next to it.

"Why is it no one on this team can come away from an encounter with a shape-shifter without getting themselves knocked up?" Jack sighed, offering Ianto his hand to help him up but little in the way of sympathy.

Owen raised his bandaged hand, "Um, I've _never_ been impregnated by anything."

Jack waggled his eyebrows. "That you _know_ of." He slipped an unexpected arm under Ianto's armpits and half-lifted, half-frogmarched him towards the door to the stairs. "Go fire up the singularity scalpel, Owen."

"Oh no," Ianto said, shutting his eyes again. "Not that."

"Hey," Jack said, giving him a tentative squeeze. "You may be all set for settling down and ejecting larvae from your trachea, but I'm not ready to be a step-daddy just yet, okay?"

**Author's Note:**

> It could have been a lot worse. I'm sorry I raped Ianto in the face with a muppet. I really am. But at least there was no sex pollen.


End file.
